


Supernatural Cathartica

by NerdNirdNurd



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amy Pond (mentioned) - Freeform, Basically Everybody I Can Think Of, Gen, Jessica Moore (mentioned) - Freeform, Jo Harvelle (Mentioned) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-07-17 08:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 12,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16091624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdNirdNurd/pseuds/NerdNirdNurd
Summary: Hello, my lovelies! I've done a revision, and added a couple of chapters! I'm SO excited!This is just an exercise in catharsis. Dean and Sam and gang DRIVE ME CRAZY. So I'm going to have a little fun with the people who inhabit the supernatural 'verse, and what they would be like if they were real people. I'm going to go after the show itself, and the most popular fan fiction tropes. I love Sam. I love Dean. I love Jody, Charlie, Garth, Bobby, Rufus and all the happy to be miserable gang of Supernatural.There is foul language.Enjoy.





	1. Chapter of Contents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Contents

Chapter 1. AMELIA: Or, She missed her husband, sort of. But Sam was alive. And hot.  
Chapter 2. BOBBY: Or, Define Normal.  
Chapter 3: MARY: Or, I Don't Like My Sons; Is That Bad?  
Chapter 4. RUFUS: Or, Not Today Satan!  
Chapter 5 ELLEN: Or Plan B  
Chapter 6: JOHN: Or, You Can't Be Great At Everything  
Chapter 7: NAOMI: Or, Coffee with The Boss  
Chapter 8: AZAZEL: Or, Am I In Opposite World?  
Chapter 9: SAM: Or, RBSD Vintage  
Chapter 10: DEAN: Or, Someone's nice to our boy  
Chapter 11: SAM 2 or Boundaries, Dude!  
Chapter 12: LUCIFER or, They Talk, Sometimes  
Chapter 13: THE BROTHERS WINCHESTER  
Chapter 14: ZACHARIAH: or, Nope, that was real 


	2. AMELIA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelia Sort of Missed Don. But Sam was Alive. And Hot.

Amelia didn't have to take the man into her home. But Sam felt so guilty about Riot. And he was clearly on the outer edges of tremendous grief. And he was a nice guy. He had a broken angel thing going about him. 

Not unlike Don, back before he went into the military. Don had a lost little boy aura back then. And Don was a nice man; a very nice man. He was kind and considerate, and he made a good living. He was a very good husband and Amelia appreciated him, truly, she did. 

But Don was dead. And Amelia felt like she’d lost her very best friend in the world. And Sam was right there. 

Sam was lost.  


Samwas hot as fire.  


She didn't _say_ anything. And she tried not to stare. Best of all? Sam was alive. And needed a place to stay. And if she took in a strange man after her husband’s death, everyone would just chalk it up to greif making her do stupid, stupid things. Sam was a living breathing, needy man. And she was a living breathing, needy woman. There was no reason they couldn’t meet each other’s needs for a while. 

But then Don came back and she hemmed and hawed and stammered and Don accepted her explanation. And honestly, Amy was really very happy that Don was back. It was awkward, but...it was Don, and she really did love Don. 

Sam’s dead brother popped up out of nowhere and within a couple of days, Sam stepped out of her life. And that was that. Amy wondered, as she watched the brother back the big black car out of her driveway, if his return was such a happy thing. Sam didn’t look happy at all. FINI


	3. BOBBY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Define 'Normal'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of the Wincest trope

Bobby ran John off with a shotgun more than one time. Dean only remembered one time.

The first time John dropped the boys off, Sam didn’t have shoes. It was fxcking November, and Sam didn’t have shoes. Since Bobby didn’t know John at all at the time, he let it slide. The man had just lost his wife, after all. The clothes obviously went up in flames. Bobby found out afterward that Mary had been gone for a couple of years. 

Every time the boys came to stay, there was something wrong with 'em. Dean never had winter coats. Sam's clothes never, ever fit. On a couple of occasions, Dean was clearly malnourished - like, bony cheeks and shoulders, malnourished. Bobby wasn’t stupid. The second time Dean showed up looking skeletal, Bobby knew it was because John didn’t want to spare the cash to feed his damned kids. So John was introduced to the shotgun.

Then there was the time when John dropped them off and Sam had pneumonia. How the boy survived, Bobby didn’t know. What he did know was John came back right after Sam got out of the hospital, talking about leaving with the boys. Sam couldn't even stand without losing his breath. Buckshot clipped John in the ass as he ran to his car. Bobby kept the boys for the entire spring that year. Sam got A's in everything.

There was the time Dean was covered in bruises after that shtriga attacked Sam. Bobby knew damned well the bruises on Dean’s face didn’t come from that monster. Bobby didn't open fire, because Dean was already upset. So he waited until Dean went upstairs, and then Bobby slapped John with a skillet. 

But there was no reasoning with John. 

Be that as it may, John always brought the boys back to Bobby. It wasn’t nearly often enough. Dean was proof of that. 

Bobby had tried to teach that boy what it was like to live in the actual world, but despite his best efforts, that boy wasn't interested in being anything more than a killer. Caleb had once called Dean a psychopath. At th time, Bobby thought the man was overreacting. But now, Bobby wasn't so sure. For Dean, people were something he saved so he could be a hero, or to be used for information, food, money or sex: Another lesson Dean learned from John.

The only time Bobby even heard from the Winchesters was when John or the boys needed a free place to stay, or food. 

Like now. They were staying with Bobby for a few weeks. Dean was going on 27. Sam was twenty-three. They were broke and Dean's arm was broken, so they couldn't hustle for cash. And neither one of them were interested in getting a job. 

And if that wasn't bad enough, Bobby strongly suspected there was some hanky panky going on between between them boys. He’d seen an episode of Donohue once, and they had talked about how incest occurs in isolated families. And hoo boy, were those Winchesters isolated. That’s why Bobby soundproofed his room years ago. It’s also why, when the boys were teens, he steered them to the bedrooms at the other end of the second floor. Knowing your surrogate kids are boning each other is one things, hearing them do it, was another thing entirely. 

Bobby didn’t like to think of himself as a hick, but he could admit that he was country as all outdoors, and he was fine with that. The Winchester boys? Straight out of Deliverance.  
Dean still thought he had grown up into a hero. It was a pitiable, childish dream and Bobby tried to talk Dean out of it, but Dean's need to be a hero, just like his dad. John never did anything about it because it clearly worked to his own benefit. In fact John did everything he could to encourage that stupid dream. Bobby knew why John made sure Dean couldn't go to school - ignorant, undereducated people were impressionable and easy to mold.

But Sam; he figured John out when he was still real young, and learned everything he possibly could. John had the damndest time trying to shape Sam. He got him trained, but he couldn't make Sam a mini-John. Made Bobby damned proud. But nowadays, Sam burned for vengeance, just like John did. Bobby sighed and scratched his jaw. He looked at his watch. MAybe another twenty minutes and the boys might be out of the bedroom. It was still early yet. And the boys got...loud in the mornings.  
‘Bout the only two things those boys did were kill and fuck. Well, Dean ate all the time. And they cleaned their weapons a lot. But that was the sum total of their life. If John ever turned up again, Bobby wasn’t going to shoot into the dirt. He was going to kill the man, for destroying what could have been two, fine gentlemen.  
Sam had almost made it. He’d come so close. Stanford, pre-law. Bobby had been so proud when he found out. Aw, but that didn’t really matter now, did it? Bobby downed half a glass of whiskey and stared at an old van. Rumsfeld was sprawled beside him, asleep. The sky was turning gray; rain was coming.. Hopefully, the rain would wait until he was inside. FINI


	4. MARY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I Don't Like My Sons. Is That Bad?

Mary didn’t even know where she was going.  
She couldn’t think. She couldn’t see. The only thing she could manage was to mash the gas pedal to the floor and flee from that godforsaken bunker.  
Dean was so much like her own father that it hurt to listen to him talk. Or rather, not talk. Dean couldn’t talk. He talked like a kid that learned how to talk from watching TV. Did John even talk to the boys? Didn't Dean go to school? Why couldn’t her oldest son say ‘We’ll have to wait here until we know more’ or ‘This is my friend, Castiel’ or ‘I still like pie’. He talked in some kind of new slang that she just didn’t get. And he wouldn’t answer her questions, and when he did, he’d get angry for having to answer.  
She loved her son dearly. But she didn’t like what little of him she knew so far. He wasn’t good people. She’d tried so hard to get away from hard, wizened, bitter, drunk hunters and to find out that John had deliberately fashioned Dean into exactly that was more than she could stomach. And as for Sam, she wondered if he knew about her deal. He as so stand offish. And he kept asking her things that left her speechless: What was her favorite food, her favorite band, where did she meet John?  
What the fuck had John been doing for twenty fucking years? Why didn’t her boys know anything about her?  
And the angel….she knew he probably meant well, if Dean was anything to go by, but the guy creeped her out. He radiated discomfort. And none of Dean’s efforts seemed to make Castiel feel calm or welcome. Castiel always looked like he just didn’t get what Dean was saying. But Mary didn’t get it either. Because Dean couldn't freaking talk like a normal person. Or maybe he could, and chose not to. She didn't know.  
All she knew was this: Her whole life was a sham. Just so Dean and Sam could suffer.  
And look what it turned them into.  
She knew she was wrong for running away. But she couldn’t make herself go back to that bunker.


	5. RUFUS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not Today, Satan!

Rufus lived out the middle of bumble f*ck nowhere for a reason. He didn’t like people, because you never knew if you were dealing with a real live person, or a ghoul, a werewolf, a kitsune, a demon, a witch or who knew what the hell else. But he didn’t like to ignore it when hunters called for help. If he could help, and more importantly, wanted to help, he would. He answered when he saw Bobby’s name come up on his cell phone.  
“...swer your damned phone you ol…”  
“What is it Bobby?” Rufus asked, cutting the other man off.  
“You got a worm-tailed Castleberry flower?” Bobby asked. Rufus paused. Castleberry was hard to come by in the first place. Worm tailed castleberry required dealings with the fae, which Rufus Didn’t Do.  
“Why do you need wormtailed castleberry?” Rufus asked, stalling. He’d stolen a stash of it from a witch he’d killed some years ago, but Bobby didn’t need to know that.  
“Oh,’ Bobby hemmed. “You don’t wanna know that.”  
In the background, someone else spoke up.  
“See if he’s got turtle dander!”  
“Allright! Just hold your horses" Bobby snapped. "Let me talk to the man!"  
“Who’s there with you?” Rufus demanded to know. He didn’t like a lot of people knowing that he was in contact with Bobby, or anyone for that matter.  
“That’s Dean.” Bobby sighed, tiredly. Rufus squeezed his eyes shut and winced. No, nononononnoooo...  
“Hunh. Didn’t know the Winchester boys were at that level of potion.” Rufus said. The idea of Winchesters working with any kind of castleberry was a jarring. Bobby sighed loudly.  
“Well, we’ll find out." he said. And didn't that NOT make Rufus feel better about it. "You got the castleberry?”  
“Not the worm tailed kind." Rufus lied. "You have to go to faerie folk for that.”  
“Turtle dander?” Bobby asked.  
“Nope. Try Wiggins. He’s got a bunch of stuff. I got food on the stove. Bye.” And Rufus hung up. Bobby wouldn’t take offense. He knew that Rufus was an asshole.  
Rufus went into the kitchen. He had meat cooking that should be just about done by now. He opened the pot and poked at the meat with a knife. When pieces sliced off without trouble, he set the lid to the side. Rufus was pretty sure he probably should’ve helped the Winchesters; to supervise them in the proper usage of castleberry, but…

Rufus had worked with John Winchester once upon a time. One job went perfect, one went sideways. That was how it went - you won a few, you lost more. Especially back then, when they were all still kind of green. That second hunt went bad because a powerful demon was involved. Some woman summoned the thing for revenge against her cheating husband. John started reciting the exorcism from memory while Rufus and Dave fumbled for their notes. Rufus noticed that nothing was happening as John spoke. When Rufus and Dave joined in, they managed to piss the thing off before it broke loose and killed Dave, the husband and the wife. (Turned out the summoning circle was wrong, or something. Rufus never found out, because Rufus never went after another demon.) Rufus escaped with a nasty knife wound. Somehow, John only broke his middle finger. That was bad enough. But then this happened:  
“You do know you have to believe in God for the exorcism to work, right?”Rufus had asked. “That’s why it didn’t work for you.”  
"God doesn’t actually exist, you dumbfuck.” John sneered. And then that man went to his car, got in and drove off: Didn’t offer to get Rufus stitched up, or to a hospital or nothing. Just rolled off in his Chevy.  
Rufus was left with his mouth hanging open: The guy believed in demons, but not God. John Winchester had just recited a CATHOLIC ritual, but God didn’t exist?  
And that’s when Rufus knew: John Winchester was dumb as a box of rocks. Brave? Sure. Vengeful? Nobody more so. And Rufus knew, from painful, personal experience, you can’t fix stupid. You can’t teach stupid. Your best bet is to avoid stupid. 

John Winchester had supposedly taught his boys everything he knew. And everybody knew that Dean was desperate to be just exactly like his daddy. Which meant he was stupid, too.

Rufus pressed greens into the water with his ham hocks. If Bobby wanted to get tangled up with stupid, that was was Bobby’s business. FINI


	6. ELLEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plan B

Ellen Harvelle was nobody’s fool. 

The minute the Winchester boys showed up, she put plan B in action.  
Plan A had been kill John Winchester but he died before she got to do it. According to the boys, John’d made a deal with the demon he'd chased for decades (how stupid could a guy be?); John's life, for Dean's. So far as Ellen knew, that put John on the express train to hell, so she was happy with the results. 

Plan B involved a crossroads demon named Crowley and for the record, Ellen thought she got off cheap. 

But a lot happened after that, and she had to admit, the boys weren't bad boys. They were just born under the wrong influence. They were good hunters. They meant well. And John did leave them in the lurch of all lurches. But they were albatrosses. 

The plan was simply enough - disappear; make it look like they died in a misguided effort to kill Lucifer. All it had to be was plausible, and given the state of the world at the time, mortals trying to kill Lucifer made sense. 

It should have gone smoothly. But Dean and Sam came bopping through, with actual fucking Lucifer on their tails, and the plan got blown to hell. 

As proof of Winchester albatross theory, Jo nearly got blown to hell too. 

But Crowley was nothing if not thorough, and after Dean heroically (!) kissed Jo goodbye, Crowley healed her and Ellen with a wave of his hands. Then he snapped his fingers and the store vanished. 

From that day on, Ellen never knew happened in that town, and didn't try to find out. Crowley released her from the remainder of the deal - Ellen didn't know why. She figured he was playing a long game and at some point, she'd face the consequences. 

Crowley sent them to Miami, Florida, with new names, IDs, soc numbers, the whole nine yards. It was a perfect choice: 

The vast majority of hunter abhorred cities - there were several reasons for that; cities were heavily populated with police, FEDS and riddled with up to the minute payment technology. Pool tables were few and far in between; motels weren’t cheap. There were also security cameras everywhere, and lots and lots of people with cell phone cameras. 

And best of all, Dean Winchester absolutely hated Florida.

The injury from the explosion was enough to persuade Jo that hunting really wasn’t gallant and brave and heroic. Jo got a job at the port of Miami working for Royal Caribbean. Ellen got a job onboard the Mariner of the Seas as a bartender. 

The money wasn’t much, but the entire Royal Caribbean fleet was warded against everything imaginable, because seafarers, as it turned out, were highly superstitious. Who knew?

At any rate, Jo met a guy named Dan at a coworker’s birthday party. They would be married in the spring. Ellen poured vodka over some ice and quickly scanned the shoreline as the ship left Florida. She didn’t know how the world was going to end. She didn’t know where she would end up. Or Jo, for that matter. But she was away from the hunt; it should have made her feel bad, but she'd lost half her family to it; it was past time to get out. Jo was out too, and that was all that mattered. FINI


	7. JOHN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can only be best at one thing at a time.

He remembered being tired. It was hard to believe he was only 52 when he died in that hospital hallway. He’d felt like he was a hundred years old. He didn’t remember much about Hell, other than he went, and it hurt like a bitch for a very f*cking long time. The next thing he remembered was emerging from the hell gate, into that cemetary and spotting his own two sons on the field. And Azazel himself, within arms’ reach! He instinctively ran to Dean's aid. and watched his son kill the demon. He couldn't describe the pride he felt for his boys in the moment, but then it was time to go again.

And then...nothing for a while. 

John didn’t know where he went or why, but it was a while before he got to join Mary. She wasn’t waiting for him in a replica of the house where she died. It was a different house; smaller and on a bigger piece of land. It was a copy a house they decided not to buy. Mary had loved it, but the price was too high. 

And now it was theirs. 

John and Mary didn’t do a lot of talking at first; they were content to silently hug each other, for hours. Days, maybe (which John knew would shock his boys into stunned silence, because he never hugged them much after Mary died.) Eventually, they got to a point where they could let each other go enough to sit sde by side on the porch swing. They were on the swing, drinking apple cider and eating popcorn when they started talking. It was a good, productive talk; some necessary truths had to come to light. They were able to piece together how they were both manipulated, for years and years and years, starting before John's first death, which he suddenly remembered. 

John explained why he raised the boys the way he did: He wanted to raise them into hard and mentally equipped soldiers in the war they were in against all monsters and demons everywhere. And that was about all he taught them, outside of what he called survival skills and what Mary called a criminalist. And when he stopped to think about it, credit card fraud, poker, pool and petty theft (dead monsters frequently had cash or credit cards, who knew?) didn't provide enough money to live on. But then, what could John have done? At the time, he'd genuinely thought he was successfully hiding his youngest from Azazel. 

In addition to that, John was pretty sure that Dean was two steps away from being a full-on psychopath, and the youngest was convinced John despised him in favor of Dean. Even worse: Sam was convinced that John was entirely aware of what kind of man he was building (that was the word Sam had used, as in 'because you certainly aren't raising us! Dean wasn't born in a pod, Dad! He doesn't need a programmer, he needs a father!') John hated arguing with Sam, frequently because John rarely understood Sam's references. Of course Dean wasn't born in a pod. The fuck did the boy even mean? John wouldn't find out for years. And of all people, Castiel the angel, who didn't understand anything about anything, explained it to John. And it was only at that point, that John could maybe admit that he didn't have to slap Sam that night. Because long story short, Sam was spot on. John knew it then, he knew it now. Dean was turning into a scary man. It didn't occur to John to change his methods, because back then, all that mattered was the hunt. So he just kept taking the boys to Bobby. Bobby was a good influence. John hoped some of that influence would rub off on Dean. 

John also told Mary about being scared for the boys, or drunk, or so exhausted he couldn’t hardly stand up. Sometimes Dean and Sam had to fend for themselves because John didn’t have the strength to go back to them. On one occasion, he was stuck in a hole with a broken ankle. Another? A severe concussion that made it impossible to drive. Sometimes, the grief and fear and despair would hit him so hard he didn’t trust himself around the boys.   
During those times, Missouri was a great help, as were Pastor Jim and Caleb. John never revealed his fears or his worries to the boys, convinced that he always had to portray himself as strong and always in control. Dean grew up thinking John was superhuman, and Sam essentially didn’t know his own father. 

But they were damned fine hunters.

There was an old television set in the living room. Sometimes, John and Mary got to watch their boys. John sighed as he watched his sons turn in for the night. The brothers were fully clothed and the duffles were packed, which meant they were leaving before first light. They weren’t speaking to each other because of an argument, so they had stomped and slammed their way to their respective beds. Sam was drifting in and out of sleep. Dean was wide awake. John knew the silence between them wouldn’t last long. Dean liked to talk too much to stay quiet.At least, he did when he was with Sam. Dean didn’t talk much at all when he was with John.   
John loved his boys, fiercely, and he had never denied that he was a shit parent. He just didn’t have the temperament to be parent, teacher and drill sergeant. He just hoped that what he did accomplish, would be enough to keep them alive.   
“I made cookies.” Mary said, appearing from the kitchen with a plate full of the sweets. “They bedded down for the night?” She asked. John nodded. The image of their sons faded to black and white snow. John got up and turned the TV off.   
“Yeah. You think we’ll get to see ‘em again this week?” He asked. Mary shrugged.   
“Hard to tell. I haven’t been here long enough to figure out the pattern.”  
John started at that. He’d forgotten that she had spent twenty years in their old house. Basically by herself, while he took the boys all over the country. He had literally take her boys away from her.  
“I’m sorry about that.” He said. “I didn’t know back then…”  
“Hush. We’re here now.” She held out an oatmeal raising cookie. “Have a cookie.”  
*****


	8. NAOMI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee With The Boss

Naomi found herself seated in a tavern. The lights were low, and the place was completely empty. There was a guitar on a stool on the small stage. The place smelled like leather, wood and liquor. Nami frowned. Liquor. A human vice. Just another reason to keep them separate whenever possible.

She wondered who she'd be reporting to, now that she'd been brought back from nothingness. She assumed it was Michael, which meant she was in for a chewing out. An angel at her level, never should have been vulnerable to attack. And he would be right. 

At the sounds of someone moving about in what was probably the storeroom, Naomi turned to she who it was. She as disappointed.

"Why are you here, Chuck?" She asked the prophet. Chuck smiled ruefully and the room filled with the bright awesomeness of his power. 

"That's just my pen name. No need for you to use it." He said. Naomi swallowed and nodded. For the first time in forever, she didn't have a clue what to say. Chuck sat down and he smiled at her. He'd brought a pot of coffee out from the store room and poured a cup for her before pouring some for himself.

"You were on the Apocalypse team." He said. Naomi nodded. "Rose up through the ranks when Uriel died."

"Yes."

"I can't say I agree with your methods." Chuck said. Naomi nodded. 

"We were pressed for time." She said. Chuck grimaced. 

"Not really. Michael has power over time. He can reverse course at any point, and you know that. But I also know that he gave orders not to involve him in the day to day preparations."

"We came so close! I think we can crack the Winchesters this time! We just need one more try." Naomi argued.

"We can circle back to that." Chuck said. He paused and folded a napkin in front of him before speaking."My concern, is that your actions have created an ever growing group of humans who are terrified of heaven. They don't want to die because they're scared out of their minds of you and Zachariah and several other angels. At no point was Heaven to be anything less than the ultimate, perfect sanctuary for humans at the ends of their mortal lives. You and Zachariah and Metatron and Raphael have taken that from them. _You've made my personal promise a lie._ That's bad enough. And Uriel!"

"What about Castiel? He made himself God!" Naomi pointed out. "I'd say Uriel wasn't the worst."

"Castiel..." Chuck began. Naomi cut him off. 

"He's always been...off. There's something _wrong_ with Castiel." Naomi nodded forcefuly, and poked her finger into the table to make her point. Chuck tok a satisfying swallow of his coffee before eyeing Naomi.

"Castiel is exactly who I designed him to be. Castiel was my failsafe. Here's the fact: I'm not actually anxious to end the world. My leave of absence wasn't about ditching out on y kids. I wanted to see what you, my beautiful angels, would do in my absence. I wanted to see if you could learn from the humans, because that's why I created them. To teach you and your brothers and sisters how much more you could be. You don't suffer from the same afflictions that tey do. I figured it would be...kind of easy. Out of billions of you, I can count on six fingers how many of you learned the lesson. And Castiel is one. "He drinks and he's fornicated." Naomi scoffed. "But he has also learned genuine humility. He's learned empathy. And he's experienced generosity and forgiveness and love. Castiel has learned about mercy. Speaking of mercy...that's why we're here today. I want you to talk to me about Castiel. Before his ill-conceived ascension. Specifically, let's talk about the 'retraining program.' There was no such thing the last time I was home. Mostly because I understand the limits of angelic existence in ways that you clearly do not. So. I've got a list of topics, and this is Topic #1. Retraining. Or do you call it reconditioning. Humans call it brainwashing. At any rate. Tell me about retraining." 

Naomi froze. Because she'd forgotten. One did not punish fellow angels without express command from Father himself. How could she have forgotten such a thing? How was it even possible? _Naomi had not received that command from Father_. 

"Only now, at the end, do you begin to see." Chuck said quietly. Naomi frowned helplessly. 

"The end of what? I don't understand." She admitted, just as quietly.

"I know. And that's why we're here." Chuck smiled and pointed to her cup. "Try your coffee. It's great stuff."

**************

PS; I've chosen to forgive Naomi. For a long time, I really didn't want to.


	9. AZAZEL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Am I In Opposite World?

HAve you ever spent a lifetime planning your big moment, only for one detail to go horribly wrong? I spent thousands of years carefully plodding forward, carefully managing evey, annoying, tiny step toward our goal: Annihilation of the human race, and victory against Heaven. With such lofty goals, one must plan carefully and execute with great care.

So imagine how excited we all were in the fall of 2005. We were officially entering the final stages of building the army. And then....

...And then....  
... .... .... *grrrr*.....

 

Brady. 

You must understand: I am a General. I give orders. That's what generals do. 

I gave a command: 'Kill Jessica Moore. Make it special, something an especially depraved human would do.' I said. I imagined all of the serial killers Alastair continuously mooned over. Surely, Brady would find a methodology he liked and apply it. I imagine blood and snot and strangulation marks. I imagined six or seven victims across the Berkeley area. It would be national news story: CNN, FOX, MSNBC. The media, such as it is nowadays, would go into a feeding frenzy. And that's when I'd help Sam accidentally find the images celebrating her mutilated corpse on the dark web. And his faith in God and humanity would suffer its second precipitous fall.  


And then I'd send in Meg to reinforce his father's ridiculous life lesson that God didn't exist; or if He did, He certainly didn't care about one, pretty college sophomore girl who made really tasty chocolate chip cookies. 

And Sam would begin to despise his fellow humans. Because John wouldn't show up. I'd see to that. And there wouldn't be anything Dean could do, once they realized the killer was human. And if I knew the Winchesters, they would tell Sam to get over it, and that would be on the off chance that either the brother or father appeared at the girls' highly publicized funeral. 

But one step at a time. Step one: Choose a serial killer. Step two. Learn his MO. Step three. Apply said knowledge to aforementioned victim. Step five. Play the grieving friend. Etc, etc. 

You know, I think Brady was planted by the other side. I have to believe that agents for the preservation of the Almighty's creation sent Brady to us. 

He stabbed the poor girl, _one_ time, and then defied all known laws of physics and planted her on the ceiling over Sammy boy. He waited until the boy was awake to set the girl on fire. When I asked BRady why he did it, he told me he liked the idea of symmetry; mimicking Mary's death. He called it a book end. He hated Sam, and just wanted to hurt him. I won't go into any details about his ensuing punishment, suffice to say he hasn't made another independent decision again.

Also, if you've come this far in the woeful tale, you know that certain events are what's known as 'Fixed Events'. For instance. Mary had to die, not John. It could not be undone. Neither could Jessica's. So we were stuck with the poor, blessed, unsuspecting angel burning on the ceiling, courtesy of...Me.

So instead of Sam losing faith in humanity, it sparked an lifelong rage against Me. And his intended troops. And Lucifer. *Sigh*. 

Can you believe that I actually had to explain to Brady how his one, stupendously dumb decision did exactly the opposite of what we needed? He told me (in between screams) that he 'hadn't thought of it that way'.

What else is there to be said. One dumb fuck employee and it's all I could do to get the gate open. At least the hell gate is open. I Still can't believe the dumb one is going to be the one to do me in. Abbadon will have to take it fro....

:)


	10. SAM

It started on a whim.  
They were in some old warlock’s house. His name was Virgil Fenderson, and he nineteen when he fought in the Civil War (and found an old witches grimoire after some battle down south).  
Virgil was ashes (literally) and the brothers were on their way out of his house when something caught Sam’s eye: A copy of Slapstick, by Kurt Vonnegut. Sam grabbed it and slipped it into his pocket. It wouldn’t be the first time he pilfered something from the dead; Dean was into Vonnegut and had a birthday coming up. Sam would surprise him with it. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Dean’s face when Sam let on that he knew Dean liked to fucking read, like, real literature. 

But Sam never gave it to Dean. Because for once in their lives, something went right: Sam had stolen a first edition. And they needed the money, so Sam sold it on Ebay for a few hundred bucks. Sam used some of the money to buy another used copy of the book and gave that one to Dean. The rest went to ammo.

Sam could have left it at that, but the idea of selling stuff online, and not leaving a nationwide paper trail of credit card fraud stuck in Sam’s mind. So he started doing a couple of things; grabbing cash wen he found it (everyone everywhere had coin jars. He accumulated piles of gift cards. And old people had a thing about envelopes full of money. And he dabbled in online sales: A pair of old spats fetched sixty dollars. As a joke, Sam put an extremely old bottle of ladies perfume up for auction on Ebay. The bidding war ended at four hundred dollars.

Stunned, Sam told Dean about his discovery. Not only was Dean not interested, but he positively reamed Sam about the paper trail. Sam didn’t argue with his older brother for one big reason: John Winchester wouldn’t have sold stuff online, so Dean wasn’t going to do it either. Dean wouldn’t want to hear about paypal or prepaid Visa gift cards or any of that.

So Sam went into business with Rufus and Bobby, on Etsy, in secret. Sam rarely had more than a couple of items to sell at a time – Dean kept such close watch on him that he usually only had a few minutes to slip small items (or money) into his pockets before Dean was back in his airspace again. But Bobby and Rufus had each come through with some choice pieces, so the little store almost always had one or two very profitable items on offer.

Over the ensuing years, Bobby and Sam developed an eye for what would sell or not. Bobby was especially good at vintage women’s shoes for some reason. In the early years, Rufus profited nicely from a 19th century floral hair piece, and followed it up with an extremely hard to find vintage Star Trek model kit. 

The turning point for Dean came a couple of years after purgatory. 

They were settled into the bunker for the night after a long drive home from wiping out a family of ghouls a couple of states over. Sam spent a good portion of the ride home fending off a concussion, so he didn’t remember all the little details of the hunt itself. 

But that night, after Dean fried a package of hotdogs and buns, and piled a whole bag of barbecue potato chips into a bowl, and got a six pack of beer for himself and an 8-pack of apple juiceboxes for Sam (a running joke), Dean approached Sam with a pearlescent pink bubble necklace, complete with matching bracelet. It was an absolutely hideous piece of costume jewelry from the 60s that left Sam’s mouth hanging open.

“Think you can get something for this?”

After dinner, Dean pretended to watch Die Hard IV while Sam set up his homemade light box, two flashlights and a stolen digital camera to photograph the piece. Then he put it up for sale.

It sold in 3 hours. 

And that’s the story of how Dean and Sam got their own online vintage shop. 

\- - - - - - - -  
Welcome to RBSD Vintage Co.  
Your Place for a Variety of Carefully Curated Pieces

Today’s selections:

Vintage Halston Shoes Circa 1975  
Color: Hunter Green  
Style: Alligator style Mary Janes, Women’s sz. 7  
$100.00 + $15.00 Packing and Shipping  
1 Pair available  
(Picture)

Item: 2  
Book: Somewhere Down The Crazy River By Jeremy Wade  
Hardcover, Published 1994, out of print  
Very Good Condition  
$195.00 + Free shipping  
(Picture)

(Author’s Note. Somewhere Down The Crazy River is a real book, and a used hardcover is on Amazon, right now, today, 9/28/2018, for $242.00. And, I totally faked the Etsy part because I haven’t been on Etsy in forever.)


	11. DEAN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some chick Dean doesn't even know says something to him in an elevator one day.
> 
> Be warned; although I'm usually rather forgiving of John's behavior (as in, I can understand the reason for it, but I do not condone it, and I want him to have a happy ending too) I'm not nice to him this time around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by something I saw on Pinterest of all places (mostly because it's not a recipe, but I digress)
> 
> Someone saw a lady chewing her daughter out. And just as the daughter was about to leave the elevator to follow her mom, someone else said something to the girl. It was a small, powerful gesture of genuine human kindness, and it stuck with me.

His father was in a bad mood. They were coming off of a spectacularly unsuccessful interview with a lawyer. Dean's father scowled all the way to the elevator, where they had to wait for a solid two minutes before it arrived. Dean wasn't looking forward to the ride down.

The elevator dinged with an old fashioned bell, and the doors slowly opened. A girl was on the elevator. She was leaning on the back wall, with a large handbag hanging on the front of her legs. She had her hair in a severe ponytail, hoop earring, brick red lips, and a black hoodie. Her eyes were brown, her eyeliner was black. Her eyebrows were more brow pencil that eyebrow, but she was flat out gorgeous and better than that, she was stared back at Dean, with an appreciative stare of her own. 

Any other day Dean would've given her one of his patented smiles and said hello. She wasn't the type that went for lines.

And then John got on the elevator and when she caught a look at John, she quickly averted her eyes, but both of her eyebrows went up. Dean quickly turned to face the front of the elevator.

John jabbed the ground floor button five or six times in an effort to get the old elevator to close faster. The doors closed in their own good time and after a jolt, the elevator began it's descent. Dean could feel his father's temper grow with every slow inch of the elevator's progress. They'd be lucky if they made it to the car before John blew his top. 

And then the elevator ground to a halt. And then another obnoxious bell began to ring continuously. Dean's heart went up into his throat.

"Son of a bitch!" John snarled. Dean stared at the wall in the opposite direction from John. The bell stopped ringing, and a garbled voice came over a loudspeaker, but who knew what they said. 

"The car ready to go?" John snapped, referring to the front brakes. Dean jerked. He'd been expecting it, but John's angry question still caught him off guard. Dean cleared his throat and answered his father.

"Finished this morning." 

"The laundry?"

"Done and packed."

"What about the book from the library? Did you get the copies?"

"Copied and returned. Everything is done." Dean replied, happy to report that he'd completed his father's list of tasks. He figured that would calm John down - finished tasks meant order was maintained. But John didn't calm down, because his father was still angry about the attorney; they guy had stonewalled John, and not in a nice way.

"You feeling smug?" John asked. "After the way you fucked up last Saturday?" He snapped. "Grimmer could've been killed!"

Dean clamped his mouth shut and said nothing. That past Saturday, Dean had slipped and fallen in mud. Grimmer suffered an injury because of it.

"And maybe you can tell me why old ruth wasn't functioning properly." His father said, giving him the look that Dean hated. It was a calm look. And it always made Dean feel small and stupid.  
Dean didn't actually know why his father's second favorite gun had jammed. He'd been over it a bunch of times. Bobby was currently figuring it out. Dean looked at the floor.

"You look at me when I'm talking to you boy."

Dean grimaced and looked back up at his father. The voice came back over the speaker and said something. There were a couple of clangs, and a few clicks, another jolt, and the elevator was moving again.

"I thought I told you to get your hair cut? It's hanging in your eyes. Your shoes are scuffed. Oh, and the next time I need you to add something to a conversation, I'll tell you what to say and when to say it, Are we clear?

Dean nodded.

"I didn't hear you." John snapped.

"Yessir." Dean said, humiliated. 

"Go back to the car and do an inventory on the med kit. I don't want anymore nasty surprises." John said. A few months prior, they had run out of codeine. John had a bad tooth, and Dean hadn't known they were out. So he nodded. 

"Yessir." He said. The elevator dinged. They were at the first floor. Dean hadn't even noticed it was moving again. His father stormed out of the elevator, not waiting for Dean. Dean sighed, rubbed the back of his neck and slowly followed John out. The girl behind him spoke up:

"Ay, yo, you know it ain't you, right?" She asked him. "It's him." She nodded her head in his father's direction. Dean glanced at her and nodded even as he left the elevator. He didn't dare stick around say something back, because his dad would get even more aggravated. Dean couldn't even bring himself to look back at the elevator was watch the girl come out too, as he half jogged to keep up with his father.

Later on, when Dean had the medkit spread out before him as he counted gauze pads, he smiled to himself. Something in the way that girl said that made something in him felt...open or something. Lighter. He couldn't even think of a word for it. He just felt...better. LIke, maybe he wasn't a total fuck up.


	12. SAM 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boundaries, dude!
> 
> REVISED, Feb 12, 2019

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, Wincest, of the papa John and Deano variety is mentioned. It's a semi-popular trope that I don't particularly care for. On the other hand, it doesn't aggravate me as much as Destiel fics do.
> 
> This is inspired by Thin Ice, by Morgan32 on AO3. I love her(? His?) story, bc when you juxtapose the incest against Dean's dogged loyalty and obedience to John, it all makes sense. You don't have to read it first for the story to make sense. But I highly recommend that you do. 
> 
> My story picks up sometime after the end of that fic. Poor Sam; what do you do when there just aren't words? Therapy, that's what.

Sam kept his promise to Dean, and never told John what he'd seen. However, it meant Sam opted to wear headphones any time he was at a motel with his brother and father. He let John think that it was grief and general, Sam Winchester style moodiness. Which it technically was , because Sam was in a hell of a mood.

For a while, Sam walked around in a red tinged rage, but it was hard to maintain that kind of anger. It sucked up energy and brain power. Simply put, it was exhausting.

But if Sam was going to soldier on in the search for the demon alongside his remaining family, he had to find some way to come to terms with the incestu...the thing between his brother and father.

He was going to have to talk to somebody or go crazy and kill both his brother and father, and wouldn't Yellow Eyes just love that? So he got in touch with a therapist.

Her name was Bethany Hart. It took Sam a full 30 minutes to give an abridged family history and a cleaned up version of events the night he saw his brother and father kissing, and his brother's reaction to being caught.

Bethany didn't seem too surprised.

"Well," she asked with a slight smile, in reference to an earlier joke about therapy stereotypes. "How does that make you feel?"

Sam almost started screaming. 

"I'm so angry I can barely think! He's taken advantage of Dean in every possible way he could! There's literally nothing he won't do to Dean! He's used him as bait! he makes him do all the laundry all of the cooking all of this caretaking. He ditched Dean the one time he got caught stealing food so he could feed me! if Dean doesn't have a winter coat John doesn't care if team didn't eat today John doesn't care!"

Sam struggled for breath. 

"And Dean just laps it up like a pathetic puppy!."

"But you love your brother." Bethany stated. That calmed Sam down, because yes, yes he did.

"Yeah. He deserves so much better than this." Sam said. 

"You said Dean intimated that it was as much gratifying as it was convenient."

"Yeah and I believe him. But it's convenient because John doesn't allow Dean to have girlfriends."

"And that's because of their transient lifestyle." Bethany confirmed. 

Sam sighed, nodding. There was a mechanical waterfall in the corner of the office. Sam realized he liked the sound of it. 

"What else? Bethany asked. Sam pulled his thoughts together.

"John was always very strict with Dean. He used to tell Dean that if Dean did what he was told, John would always come home."

Bethany's eyebrows rose but she said nothing. Sam took her silence as a cue to continue.

"Dean raised me because John wasn't usually around. hit stop in for a few days move us to a new motel and then leave sometimes he was gone for days sometimes he was gone for weeks there were times when he had to take us to his friend Bobby's house because he'd be gone for months. And Dean's got massive abandonment issues. Everything he does is designed to make sure that John keeps coming back."

Bethany dragged her teeth over her lower lips.

"And you think your father takes advantage of that." She suggested. Sam nodded, then shook his head.

"Yeah. No. I...dont know. But my dad is manipulative. I wouldn't put it past him. Especially not now."

Bethany nodded, inhaled deeply, exhaled and then leaned forward with her elbows on her knees and clasper hands.

"I want you to try something. Imagine for a moment,your father's grief. There were no bounds to it. He probably found that the only way to survive was to turn that grief to anger, and to give it purpose with the hunt for the man that killed her."

Sam nodded and pursed his lips. He could imagine that. Bethany continued.

"I believe that your father is dealing with the lasting effects of PTSD both from his tour in the war and from your mother's horrendous murder. 

"Your father still had a family he had to care for, even though he wasn't mentally capable of caring for his family. So he enlisted your brother's help. It's what we call adulting. He turned Dean into a surrogate parent.

"In these situations the widowed parent begins to lose sight of the proper boundaries between parent and child. Although it doesn't usually lead to incest, incest is not unheard of.

"Your father's restrictions regarding long-term friendships and romantic relationships, going away to college, etc, or were his attempts, however inept, to protect the two, especially in the face of his absence.

"As the child with access to 'normal' families through your friends, you could clearly see the boundaries that were crossed. Your brother doesn't know anything else. it's entirely possible that once Dean reached a certain age, he felt old enough to assume the role of marriage partner. Dean may have seen it as a natural progression. If that's true, then sex with your father was the next logical step. 

"You also have to consider the following; your brother is 26 years old and the only long-term relationship he's ever had is with your father. So the relationship has come full circle: your father is fulfilling an empty role in Dean's life.

"So what does that mean, the adulting is going both ways now?" Sam asked. Bethany grimaced.

"No matter what your intentions, Sam, you can't just break them up. Years and years and years of therapy may never achieve that. Hell, prison time might not achieve that."

"Yeah, Dean made it clear that he didn't want it to end that he was totally okay with it."

Bethany nodded.

"So, for the rest of today's session let's talk about how _you_ are going to deal with this. Many incestuous couples opt to part ways with their families, and remain in a relationship. THe question for you, is how does it affect your day-to-day life for them to have a sexual relationship with each other?"

"It pisses me off." Sam snipped. 

"Does it affect your ability to put clothes in a washing machine? Does it affect your ability to go to a grocery store? Does it affect your ability to read a book? Does it affect your ability to put on your socks?"

"It's distracting as shit. But I guess it's not..impeding my life. I just...I just can't let it go. I let all the rest of it go. I just figured we're dysfunctional as fuck, but so are lots of people. This is....this is beyond the pale. I can't accept it."

There was a pause while Bethany formulated her next question. 

"What is your goal then? To save Dean from your father? Your brother is a grown man who made a decision when he was 16 and has stuck to that decision since then. What if he doesn't want to be saved? What if they choose to live their lives without you? Can you accept that?"

The question startled Sam, because it hadn't occurred to him that, no, wait. Yes it had. But he'd assumed that Dean would come with him and not John. Sam shook his head. Dean had made a choice once before, and stayed with John. Sam wasn't dumb enough to believe the decision would be different this time around. 

"I don't want to lose my brother. I still love him and I think with enough time I could maybe convince him to find somebody else."

Bethany nodded.

"And how do you propose to do such a thing with a man who flat-out refuses to have chick flick moments?"

"I don't know."

"Let's jump forward. Once you have found your mother's killer, and you move on with your life, you finish school, you get married and have children. Would you want your brother and your father at the dinner table?"

"I don't know that I'll ever get married. Jess was it for me. But I can see the point you're making. I don't think I would want to get married because I'm the guy who comes from a homeless, incestuous family who deliberately isolate themselves from society. My brother and father are walking, talking stereotypes."

"Somehow I don't think that bothers your brother very much." Bethany said pithily.

"That's because he's so uneducated he probably doesn't know there's such a stereotype." Sam surmised dryly. 

"Can you live with it?" Bethany asked. "They are 2/3 of your only remaining family. Can you go back to living without them?"

"I don't want to. But I know my father isn't a monster. The thing that killed my mom is a monster. I just thought Dad was a better man than, at least, better than fucking his oldest son."

Sam sighed. He straightened up, and with tears on his cheeks nodded to himself. Bethany held up a box of tissues. Sam took a few. 

"I don't need to forgive Dean because he doesn't know any better. And I guess I can figure out a way to forgive John. He's fucked up, like fubar fucked up, but he's just a guy."

Bethany nodded. 

"Good. Murder averted?" She asked. Sam frowned. 

"For now. I don't have to be supportive of the relationship do I? Can I just ignore it?" Sam asked. 

"Yes and no. Ignore it when you can. Remove yourself when you cannot."

"Easier said than done." Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. 

...............

Three days later, Sam and Dean had left Cedar Rapids and arrived in Pekin, Ill. John was headed south to Auburn, Al. 

The silence between Dean and Sam was so thick it was suffocating. Or, at least it was for Dean. Because Sam could see Dean was itching to 'not' talk about it. 

"Go ahead and say it." Dean huffed. Sam didn't even look at him.

"There's nothing to say. You are a grown man capable of making your own decisions. What you and John do is between you and John. I don't want to know anything about it. I don't want to talk about it and I would appreciate it if you keep it the hell away from me."

"Aw, come on Sammy. Don't be like that." Dean said. Sam shook his head.

"You are my brother and I love you. Nothing will ever change that. You and John didn't like it when I went to Stanford, but you let me go. I don't like what you and Jon are doing. But I can leave the whole thing alone. And let's leave it at that."

Sam was proud of himself for his calm, reasonable answer. Dean fidgeted with the box of Tide Pods.

"No speeches about finding a girlfriend or a boyfriend or getting a life?" Dean asked.

"If that's what you wanted, Dean, then that's what you'd have." Sam replied reasonably. 

Sam turned away from Dean then because he knew damned well Dean thought he couldn't have a girlfriend and therefore couldn't want a girlfriend. That wasn't a monologue Sam was in the mood to hear or argue against. But it did give Sam an idea. John Winchester wasn't the only manipulative Winchester in the family, and Sam had no doubt John was using the sex to manipulate Dean. So fuck John. Sam could play the both of them.

"Yeah well maybe that's not what I want." Dean sniffed. 

"It's none of my business either way." Sam said placidly. He could afford not to argue about it. He had a plan. And if he played it carefully enough, the relationship between John and Dean would end amicably, and Sam wouldn't lose the remainder of his family.


	13. LUCIFER (And Sam)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is Lucifer's vessel (how or why it happened is not the point of today's entry). They talk, sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my mind, there's a little plot hole in the first few years of the Supernatural cannon and it has always peeved me to no end (not as much as Destiel though). The key word here is MOTIVATION.

Sam was sick to death of Lucifer’s mockery. Lucifer never missed an opportunity to mock Sam for his good deeds and good will towards his fellow humans, especially the father that had been all too willing to write him off, and poor, deluded Dean who thought he could outmaneuver heavenly beings eons older than the entire human race, blah. Blah. Blah.

It took a while, but Sam figured out a way to twist a bent rusty screw into Lucifer’s blind spot; his opinion of himself and his fellow angels. Lucifer  
“I have a question.” Sam said. Lucifer grinned in anticipation at Sam’s rare query.  
“What would you like to know?”  
“It’s your destiny to kill the humans, right?” Sam asked. Lucifer gleefully mm-hmmed in response. Sam continued. “Because you despise us for our dual natures.”  
“That is correct.” Lucifer chirped.  
“Your counterparts in Heaven jump started this whole thing because they don’t disagree with you. They’re sick of watching us fuck up every creation we can get our hands on, including angels.”  
“Got it in one.” Lucifer sing-songed. Sam paused, because he wanted to choose his words.

“So they set this whole complicated plan in motion to set you free.” Sam said. Lucifer nodded with his bottom lip stuck out, letting Sam know Lucifer thought this was a not just a stupid line of thought, but possibly the most asinine ever. Sam ignored it and pursued his thought.

“So you can kill us off, and _they_ enjoy the result f your handiwork.” Sam said. That brought Lucifer up short.  
“You’re oversimplifying it.” Lucifer said. Sam shook his head (well, he pictured himself shaking his head, since Lucifer was in actual control of his body).

“See, I don’t think so. Check it out: The same angels that watched you get expelled from the only home you’d ever known, are the same angels that speak your name in disgust and shivers of revulsion. And they are the same angels desperate for you to wipe out the human race, because they’re sick of babysitting the very humans you all equally despise.”

Lucifer paused in his stride. Sam saw his chance and kept talking.

“I met Uriel." Sam said with disgust. "His opinion of us was no better than yours, but he didn’t fall with you, did he? There are plenty of angels who feel the same way he did.”

“That’s not news.” Lucifer pointed out, affecting boredom. He resumed walking. 

“I’m sure it isn’t." Sam said. "What is, is your acceptance of their hypocrisy. That’s the surprise.” Sam said with feeling. “They weren’t willing to do anything to the humans so long as your Father was watching, but now that he’s gone, and it’s convenient for them, they’re jumping on your bandwagon. They don’t even care how you kill the humans, _just so long as you do it._

"They're letting you do the, let's call it, the wetwork of freeing them from their duties to us, and in return for your hip deep wade in human blood, they will reap the rewards; a peaceful and permanently closed Heaven afterwards. And if you have to die to accomplish it, well, whatever. 

Most of the angels up there never even met you. They never knew your father either. So far as I can tell, most of the angels up there haven’t ever been taught why you sinned, just that you did, and that you are permanently persona non grata for it. They don’t love you like you loved them. They couldn’t care less about you. But they’re willing to let you do all the hard work and die for their benefit, aren’t they?”  
Lucifer frowned but kept walking. He took up Sam's challenge.

“That’s why I’m going to hit Heaven first. Metatron weakened all of the borders and wards when he expelled the angels and let them back in; he didn’t realize that without Father’s cleansing, he was bringing in corruption and filth. Well, more than was there in the first place, what with the admission of humans.”

“I get that. But why play their game?” Sam asked. “I mean. Free will is still a thing. You don’t have to kill everybody.”

“Of course I do; the point still has to be made.” Lucifer said.

“ _To who?_ All of Heaven agrees with you.” Sam pointed out. Lucifer had stopped walking forward, and was now going in circles, which Sam knew to mean Lucifer was actually thinking it through. So he kept talking.

“Put it this way. The game is over for me and Dean. Or almost over for Dean. And I’ll admit, some of this is for me, too. But...wouldn’t it be interesting to see how it would play out if you don’t move forward with their plan? I mean…what’ll happen to you? What’re they gonna do, kill you?” Sam asked.

“They’ll kill me either way.” Lucifer said.

“Yeah, but that’s not exactly the unknown here.” Sam said.

“You want to see how far they will go to make their plan work.” Lucifer said. Sam stayed silent because he knew what was coming.

“You want them to pay for their perfidy.” Lucifer said. “Not just to me, but to Father as well.”

“I don’t deny it.” Sam said in a quiet voice. “They’ve been acting like demons, the very creatures you despise more than humans, but somehow, they’ll get to stay in Heaven. That’s not fair to me or you or any of the souls residing in Hell.”

“Because Father will forgive them.” Lucifer growled.

“Exactly. Your love for him wasn’t enough to save you, but it’ll save all of them?” Sam asked. Lucifer swallowed.

Sam had a point. Heaven agreed with Lucifer, and was working to rectify God’s mistake. So why did Lucifer have to die for Heaven’s new purpose to come to fruition? Sam took the chance to forward his argument one last time.

“Is there some reason why you can’t take some time out for yourself and enjoy your freedom? Does it all have to start to end today?” Sam asked.

“No.” Lucifer said, after a very long silence. “It doesn’t.”

Lucifer wasn’t stupid. Sam was clearly trying to give his loved ones more time on this earth, since he thought they were all bound for Hell. Lucifer let him believe it because Sam wasn’t destined for any sort of comfort anyway, and Lucifer liked watching the boy cry about his family.

But the boy had a point.

“What should I do with my freedom?” Lucifer asked mockingly. Sam perked up.

“Have you ever had strawberry ice cream?” Sam asked.

“Really? Ice cream?” Lucifer huffed. Sam snorted.

“I’ve never seen the Andromeda Galaxy.” Sam said. Lucifer blinked.

“It’s been a long time since I saw it. No reason why I can’t show it to you.” Lucifer said. He nodded and in a flutter of wings and a flash of light, planet Earth was left behind.


	14. THE BROTHERS WINCHESTER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TOTAL AU.   
> The most popular plot device is Dean's abandonment issues, and his inability to see past them. It's a tired, tired, tired trope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want my baby, er, I mean Dean, to find some peace in his life. To hell with a TV show that keeps them in perpetual misery for advertising dollars.
> 
> It's a Cathartica Entry yall, so everybody and everything are OOC.

By the time Sam was forty years old, he’d decided he’d had enough. The day he made that decision, it was the middle of January, and they were stuck in a cabin in the middle of Wyoming. Survival lessons from their father, plus the forethought to prepare accordingly, meant they weren’t without food. But the wood stove in the cabin was tiny, and no match for the howling winds of the Wyoming winter. Sam was cold natured; he wore long sleeves all year round. But in Wyoming, in fucking January? He never took his coat off. He was freezing. And this was even when he sat as close as he could to the stove without burning himself.   
To be fair, by the second day, they had the beds turned onto their sides, and the heat from the fire corralled into a small, livable area. Sam eventually warmed up. But he resented the cold every time he went outside to relieve himself.  
When the roads were reopened days later, Sam very forcefully told Dean to drive to the nearest, warm coast. To Sam’s surprise, Dean didn’t ignore the request. He pointed the car due west, and a couple of days later, they were looking at the Pacific Ocean, from a beach in La Jolla California.  
They didn’t have an especially good time there in La Jolla. The nearest motel in their price range was forty miles away. And that was enough to send Dean into a never ending blue streak about why he hated California. Seriously, he was at it for hours.  
“All right, Dean. I get it. You don’t like it here.” Sam said. Dean stopped complaining to look at Sam.  
“You feeling all right Sammy?” He asked. Sam shook his head.  
“I don’t wanna do this anymore.” Sam said, quietly. He didn’t elaborate like he usually did. Sam had found that the more he tried to explain something, the less Dean heard. Sam waited while Dean processed what he’d said.  
“What do you want to do?” Dean asked. Sam shrugged.  
“Maybe…go part time. Or take Bobby’s place and be the guy in the chair. But the day to day grind of it…I’m just done man.” Sam said. His knees, were aching, from years of being cramped in the front seat of the car. They were swelling, and he didn't have a heating pad for them. Maybe they could stop at a Walmart for a new one. Meanwhile, Dean was shaking his head, which meant Dean wasn’t pleased.  
“Monsters don’t go part time.” Dean huffed. _Oh, here we go_ , Sam thought.  
“There are more hunters on the scene now, than when we were kids. All the people we've been saving over the years, some of 'em are taking up the cause, man. And honestly, I’d feel better for all of them if we could step back and do some teaching.”  
“So you’re just gonna quit?” Dean snapped. Sam exhaled to keep from saying something he couldn't take back (like he usually did, like John always did.)   
“OK, you’re going to have to make me understand something. “ Sam said, leaning forward. “Why do you always take it as a personal attack when I start talking about retirement? Why does it make you angry?”  
“I’m not angry!” Dean retorted.  
“Yeah, you are Dean. Why?”” Sam asked. Dean grimaced.  
“You’re always talking about leaving…”  
“I HAVEN'T SAID ONE WORD ABOUT LEAVING.” Sam snapped.

“You’ve done it before. Every time I’m gone for more than three minutes, you find a way out.” Dean snarled. And for once, Sam spoke a truth he hadn't uttered in years:

“That shouldn’t come as a surprise to you. I hated hunted when we were kids. I hated it when I was in high school and in college. I hated it ten years ago. I hated it five years ago. I hate it now. So yeah, everytime you die, I quit, because I. Hate. Hunting. I’m sorry you think that the only way to love you is to try to be YOU, but you’ve known this about me for the whole of my life. Nothing has changed."

“What about the people you would be saving?” Dean asked.  
“Do you genuinely believe we’re the only hunters in the world?” Sam asked. “Did someone tell you that every hunter everywhere has been wiped out, and there are none in the pipeline?”

“Of course not!"

“So. Why does it have to be us?” Sam asked.

“Why are you always looking to shirk responsibility?” Dean snapped.

“Why can’t you accept that you and me have different callings?” Sam asked.

“Different callings. Is that what you're calling it now?” Dean sneered.

Sam sighed. He threw up his hands in defeat.

“I just can’t anymore. With you. Everything about the way you see this is unhealthy. I know if I leave, you’ll find a way to kill yourself, or get yourself killed. That’s how unhealthy this is for you. And nothing I say or do, or anyone else for that matter, can convince you to maybe, do something about that. I’m tired of being stuck living a life I don’t want, to keep you from committing suicide and going to hell, because you don’t have enough sense or self worth or whatever the fuck manly reason it is, to go talk to somebody about your abandonment issues. Hunting and love are two different things. Just because I hate hunting, doesn’t mean I hate you. and I’m sick of trying to make you see the difference. I’m done. You talk about what a pain in the ass I’ve been, you’re just as big of a pain. I had hoped you’d do better than John, be better than John, but I can see that was a dumb idea. You’ll never be anything more than…”  
Sam gave up speaking and left the room.

When he returned some hours later, he expected Dean to be gone drinking at the nearest bar, or shacked up with a bag of hard liquor. But Dean wasn't gone, or sacked out, drinking. Dean looked pensive.

Sam opened his laptop and went Pinterest - cat pictures and gifs were good for his anxiety. Dean used to make fun of that, until he realized that it helped Sam cope with their life.   
Dean cleared his throat, getting Sam's attention.  
“I…reflex.” Dean said. “I get mad outta reflex. I forget that…Dad’s not here. And…I don’t have to go by his rules all the time. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing.” Dean paused here. Sam didn’t say anything, lest Dean lose his courage. But he did look at him, to let him know he was listening.  
“Thing is…I’m tired too.” Dean said. “But…it feels like…if we quit, we’re letting people down.” He said. Sam cocked his head.  
“Do you think God would be disappointed in you?” Sam asked quietly. “Now that you’ve met him and spoke with him?”  
Dean thought for a moment. And he knew the answer was no, but it didn’t make him feel any less obligated. “I don’t know what to do with myself, if I’m not hunting. I’ve never had a choice to do anything else. It was all I’m ever supposed to be. And honestly, I feel like I got more in me to give. ”  
“And what do you think will happen to you if...if you don’t hunt all the time? ” Sam asked softly. Dean pursed his lips and shrugged.  
“Dad would’ve hated me.” Dean said.  
“Do you really believe that?”  
Dean shrugged.  
“Why do you believe that?” Sam asked.  
“You know how Dad was.” Dean said, rolling his eyes. Sam smiled ruefully.  
“I want to hear what you think of him. Everyone everywhere knows what I thought of him.” 

“He didn’t like me when I wasn’t useful.” Dean said quietly. “If I couldn’t be in the fight, it was like I didn’t exist.”  
Sam always known it, but for Dean to admit it was huge.  
“Well, let’s follow that thought through. I mean, if you can stand another chick flick moment."  
"I say we get'r done." Dean said. "Hash it out once and for all."  
Sam nodded and continued with his earlier thought.  
"Let’s say John is in Heaven. And when you quit hunting, he stops loving you. What will happen then?”  
“He won’t come back.” Dean said.  
“And then what?” Sam asked.  
Dean blinked.  
“At some point, hunter or not, John was going to die, and leave you behind. There has to be more.” Sam prodded.  
Dean hugged himself and stared at the floor. It was a long time before he spoke again. This time his voice was thick, and his face was red with anger.  
“Dad was a user.” Dean said. Sam swallowed, to keep from jumping up and screaming _‘Hallelujah!”_  
“We’ve always known that.” Sam said. Dean shook his head.  
“Yeah, but I was the dumbfuck who forgave it because….” Dean cleared his throat a couple of times. Then picked up a different thought. “Anyway, he, uh, he wasn’t a good man.”  
“Doesn’t mean he didn’t love you.” Sam said. And Dean’s head snapped up and he stared at Sam, hard.  
“You really believe that?” Dean asked. Sam cocked his head to the side.  
“Yeah, I do. Believe it or not, there are a lot of really bad parents out there, who really love their kids. They’re just…shit parents. They don’t know that…when you’re a dad, you’re supposed to always, always, always take the high road. You’re not supposed to be selfish, and you’re supposed to be honest.”  
“What's that even mean, Sam? He had to get us trained.” Dean asked.  
“It means that his best was never going to be sufficient, because he just wasn’t capable. That was my problem – I always expected more out of him than he was capable of. Worms can’t dance on two legs, speak or sing, so there’s no point in looking for a singing worm dancing a jig. He just….whether he knew better or not is beside the point. He was a shit father. Doesn’t mean he didn’t love you or me. He just always got it wrong. He always said Family Comes First. But he didn't practice what he preached. We were usually last on his list. Even if what he was doing was for our benefit, he didn't have to be an asshole about it.”  
Dean frowned.  
“He got a lot wrong.” Dean admitted wryly.  
“I always wondered if you knew that.” Sam said.  
“I did.” Dean said.  
“Were you upset when he split off from you after I left?”  
“I honestly didn’t mind it that much when he left.” Dean said. “You’re the one I can’t hardly live without.”  
Sam smirked.  
“Why do you think you’ll have to live without me?” Sam asked.  
“You wanna get off the road.” Dean said.  
“I’m willing to get on the road, part time. Like, sometimes, or even, rarely. I just don’t want to live on it anymore. Do you really need to stay on the road for the rest of your life? Is there any reason why you can’t find a place to stay? With me? For long periods of time?”  
Dean shrugged.  
“You could run the salvage business. Bobby had a will. We can have the house rebuilt.” Sam said. Dean looked at Sam then.  
“I just found the letter at the PO Box.” Sam said. “Three hundred grand.”  
Dean’s mouth fell open.  
“That, that changes things.” He said, with the beginning of a smile.  
Sam snickered.


	15. ZACHARIAH

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zachariah didn't lie if he didn't have to. No matter how Sam spun what Dean saw, it would stick with Dean until he died.
> 
> This one is short.

It was Zachariah's guess that the Heaven he showed to Dean, was in fact, Sam's Heaven at one point in his life.  
There was a time when Sam was desperate to get away from Dean and John. The two of them were suffocation him. Dean was terrified of facing John should anything happen to Sam, and John was convinced Sam would turn into a demon overnight and kill everyone in reach, so of course little Sammy was smothered.

Every scene in Sam's Heaven was straight out of Sam's life. The things Sam used to dream about, back before Azazel screwed the pooch and everything went haywire. 

No matter what Sam said to Dean, Zachariah knew this one would stick to Dean like glue. Dean was such a sensitive soul, so easy to manipulate. Zachariah saw no reason to hide the fact that for much of his life, Sam wanted to get the hell away from Dean and John.

Wasn't like it was a secret.

The boy ran away from home. Twice.

And didn't that just make it all so perfect.


End file.
